


i don't want peace, i want you to punch me

by mannelig



Series: Triad of Light [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emotional Turmoil, F/M, M/M, Marriage, Self-Indulgent as hell, gets little spicy but it's not bad, minor shb and patch spoilers, thancred gonna thancred, the urithan is blink and you miss it, this is oc heavy and i'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannelig/pseuds/mannelig
Summary: They’re back home in Eorzea, and Thancred feels empty.His body is ill-fitting, like a shirt he’s outgrown. None of the new scars he’d gotten on the First are there, none of his new reflexes. This body has never imagined a sin eater, let alone fought one.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Thancred Waters/Haurchefant Greystone, Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Series: Triad of Light [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962124
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	i don't want peace, i want you to punch me

They’re back home in Eorzea, and Thancred feels empty.

His body is ill-fitting, like a shirt he’s outgrown. None of the new scars he’d gotten on the First are there, none of his new reflexes. This body has never imagined a sin eater, let alone fought one. This body has never rescued a little girl from Eulmore, never- never touched Haurchefant. His heart lurches, as if it knows what it’s missed, and Thancred takes a deep breath. _Damn it_ , he thinks, rubbing his face. _Get it together, Waters._ By the fucking Twelve, it would be just his luck to fall for a married man.

_Well,_ a nasty little part of his brain adds, _not married_ yet.

As if there could be any other outcome when the wedding is literally only two weeks away. Haurchefant and Len had dragged him with them to Ishgard to prepare, for reasons known only to them, and Thancred has spent most of the trip hiding in the Forgotten Knight and missing Ryne. There hasn’t really been anything else for him to do, to be fair. The happy couple is sickeningly competent, and he doesn’t know shit about Ishgardian weddings anyway.

A polite knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, and Thancred hastily pulls on his shirt, then goes to the door. “Yeah?” he says, opening it, and a little jolt goes through him as he looks up into Haurchefant’s face. He’d be lying if he says he hasn’t had fantasies that start exactly this way.

But Haurchefant doesn’t back him into the room and throw him into a wall. Instead, smiling, he asks, “Are you ready to go?”

Thancred stares at him blankly, then feels his ears warm. “Uh, no,” he admits. “I’ll- I’ll be down in a few.”

Haurchefant’s hand twitches at his side before giving into an impulse, and unfamiliar fingers brush Thancred’s forehead as the elezen straightens his hair. He does not lean into the touch, no matter how badly he wants to. “Don’t linger too long,” he warns. “Apparently my father has been pouncing upon people in the halls and making them read his manuscript.” At the startled alarm on Thancred’s face, Haurchefant breaks into a grin that becomes a bark of a laugh, and Thancred takes a step back into the room and all but slams the door in his face. He presses his forehead against the door and listens to his friend’s chuckles die down. “Are you alright?” he hears.

“I’m fine, sunshine,” Thancred says, and freezes, because he hasn’t called him that since they’d gotten home. “Just- compelled to hurry.”

The nickname goes right over Haurchefant’s head, and the elezen thumps the door. “We’ll be down in the foyer,” he promises, and leaves. Thancred stays where he is until the footsteps fade, then lets out a loud sigh. And after that, because the last thing he needs is the former Count’s manuscript shoved down his throat, he quickly gets dressed and heads downstairs.

As promised, the couple is waiting in the foyer, Haurchefant now wearing an elegant but practical coat. Len, on the other hand, is wearing a very fashionable dress with a matching cloak, and beams at Thancred when he arrives. “Look!” she says excitedly, taking his hand in her own dark blue one and pressing it to her cloak. Her claws press against his skin in her excitement, but not enough to hurt. “Triple blend wool with hand embroidered flames on the edges. Lord Edmont commissioned it for me as a surprise!”

Considering how conservative the neckline is, Thancred had already guessed as much. He grins and gives the fine fabric an appreciative fondle. “Lookin’ good, hothead.”

Delighted, she links one arm with him and one with Haurchefant, which means the three of them have to turn sideways and shuffle out the front door like crabs. They manage with some awkwardness, and spill, laughing, out onto the street. The air is freezing, as usual, and Thancred can’t help but shrink into his coat with a grimace. Len tugs him close, and the warmth that usually radiates off her amps up, turning her into a little walking furnace. The snow under her boots melts away to re-freeze elsewhere, and she grins at him before setting out. The plan for the evening is to relax by seeing a show and getting dinner, which sounds far too romantic to include him, but Thancred has discovered that his unfortunate weakness when it comes to saying no to Haurchefant has now extended itself to Len.

The show turns out to be a ballet, and to his surprise, Len gets super invested in it. Thancred winds up spending half of it watching her reactions, because they’re fucking hilarious. The downside to this is that he keeps locking eyes with Haurchefant, who’s doing the same thing because he’s a fucking sap.

A hand gently wraps around his wrist, and after a moment of blind panic, he realizes it’s just Haurchefant, reaching around his fiancée to touch him. Thancred looks down, then back up at the elezen, who has the audacity to smile. His weak, traitorous heart makes him slowly turn his hand over, and Haurchefant’s palm slides down over his, long fingers wrapping securely around him. Thancred’s eyes close as he re-memorizes calluses, aching to feel them around his throat.

Haurchefant doesn’t let go of him until the end of the show, and when he finally releases him, cold spreads through Thancred from the tips of his fingers. It settles in his chest, and weighs him down all through dinner.

“So,” he says as they leave the restaurant, with the same false cheer he’s wielded all night, “where to next?”

“Good question,” Len says, looking up at Haurchefant, and Thancred realizes with a jolt that she hadn’t known much about tonight either.

Smiling mischievously, Haurchefant rests a hand on Len’s shoulder, curling it round to caress her cheek. “It’s a surprise,” he says. “Are the two of you alright with taking a bit of a walk?”

He leads them to that newly built section of the city that Thancred hasn’t poked his head into yet, striding down past gorgeous new houses and apartment buildings. Curiosity slowly turns into dread as Thancred realizes that this place is entirely residential.

_I shouldn’t be here for this,_ he thinks.

But he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t leave, and eventually, they reach their destination. The house is a decent size, but modest, nothing ostentatious. There’s an unadorned little yard, and snow on the roof, and the keys jingle in Haurchefant’s hand as he pulls them from a pocket.

“I thought it might be prudent to have a house of our own,” he says softly.

Len looks at Thancred, tears in her eyes, and a chill rolls down his spine, sending him straight back to that horrible day when Maddox brought her home to the Rising Stones, covered in her kidnappers’ blood. But these tears are happy, and she reaches out to take his hand, as if to reassure _him_. Then she turns to Haurchefant, still holding onto Thancred, and tugs on his coat until he leans down to kiss her.

“Can we go inside?” she asks when they come up for air.

“I think we ought to,” Haurchefant says, chuckling. “It’s getting colder.”

He unlocks the front door, and they step into a spacious foyer. The door shutting behind them cuts off most of the cold, but the house is still chilly, and the three of them move to the parlor, shivering. There’s wood for a fire, and Len obligingly lights one with a snap of her fingers. They huddle by the hearth in a pile while the room warms, legs tangled together. The house has come furnished, but Haurchefant and Len are already talking about redecorating. Thancred half-listens, leaning back on his elbows on the plush rug, and wonders what his place in all this is.

Long fingers settle on the back of his hand, and Thancred flinches away before he can catch himself. The conversation stops, and two sets of concerned blue eyes turn to him. It’s too much, _they’re_ too much, and he rolls to his feet with a grin. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to it,” he says, picking up his scarf. “I just got a ping on the linkpearl. Something to take care of.”

“Surely it can wait until morning, my dear,” Haurchefant says, and the endearment rankles.

“Nah,” Thancred says shortly, then adds, because he can’t help himself, “Don’t fret, sunshine. I’ll be back before the wedding.”

Len gets to her feet, then pauses awkwardly, and Thancred hates her for it, just a little. It’s been years since Lahabrea, and while he understands her hesitation, it still hurts. He doesn’t give her the chance to do whatever it was she’d planned on, instead saluting them cheekily before sauntering away down the hall. He steps out into the freezing air of Ishgard and takes a deep breath as the door closes behind him, and he’s long gone by the time the door is opened in his wake.

  
  


***

  
  


As always, there’s work for the Scions. Len and Haurchefant may be on break to handle their impending marriage, but the rest of them are busy as ever, especially now that mysterious towers are sprouting up all over the place and that Fandaniel creep is hanging around. It’s not hard to avoid Ishgard altogether, and only marginally harder to avoid talking on the linkpearl. A growled, “ _I’m kinda in the middle of something, Haurchefant,_ ” has so far proven effective, because he knows the elezen is too much of a fucking softie to want him to get killed in battle.

When he catches wind of Len’s coming visit to the Rising Stones, presumably because she’s worried about the other Warriors of Light, Thancred decides it’s time to visit his good friend Urianger at the Waking Sands.

He’s lounging on Urianger’s bed when the stuffy prick walks in, and he grins lazily. “Hey.”

“...I see thou still hast not learned to use a door,” Urianger observes with a glance at the open window.

“That wouldn’t be as fun,” Thancred says breezily, and pats the bed. Urianger sighs, then begins to change out of his boring clothes into equally boring pyjamas. Not bothering to pretend he isn’t, Thancred watches him through his lashes, admiring the elezen’s lanky frame. Once dressed, Urianger shoos him to the other side of the bed, then climbs in beside him and opens his arms. With a sigh, Thancred settles into them, and feels the world close securely around him.

“Truly,” Urianger murmurs, “why hast thou come?”

“Damn, Uri,” Thancred grunts, wriggling to get comfortable, “can’t I just stop by?”

His friend considers him, then says, gently, “No, I do not believe thou canst. ‘Tis not thine inclination.”

It’s true, but it’s still shitty to hear. Shrugging a shoulder, Thancred tucks his head under Urianger’s chin. “I just needed to get away for a while.”

A sigh tickles his hair, and a thumb traces his spine. “Why must thou lie to me? Thou knowst I would not cast judgment upon thee.”

Thancred says nothing, unsure how to answer, and his silence stretches for a long time. Finally, he says, “It’s nothing.”

He can almost feel Urianger resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Forgive mine impertinence, but has it aught to do with a certain elezen?”

A chill washes over him. “Dunno what you mean.”

“My friend, ‘tis plain for all to see that-”

Unable to hear it, Thancred sits up abruptly, Urianger’s arms falling to his waist. His heart is pounding, drowning out all other sounds, and he can feel his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “Nothing,” he snaps. “There’s nothing to- _nothing_ to see, Uri.”

“Thancred-”

“I need to go-”

“ _No_.” The short, firm command cuts through to the bone, and Thancred lets out a shaky gasp as large hands gently tug him back down, settling on his hip and the back of his neck. “Pray forgive me, ‘twas not my intention to distress thee so. I shall refrain from pressing the issue, if only thou wouldst stay and rest.”

Heart still thundering, Thancred allows himself to be pulled against Urianger’s chest, and the elezen gently strokes his hair until his breathing evens out. Sheepishly, he snakes an arm around his friend and closes his eyes. “...Sorry.”

“Thou hast naught to apologize for, Thancred.” Another sigh, softer than the first. “Though I do sorely wish thee would confide in me.”

Thancred says nothing, and pretends to fall asleep. After a while, Urianger does the same, possibly in hope that Thancred will blurt something out. He doesn’t, and the night stretches on, interrupted only by their too-even breathing.

  
  


***

  
  


As promised, he resurfaces for the wedding, prompted partially by guilt and partially by Tataru sweetly threatening him over the linkpearl. He shows up at the Rising Stones a couple days before and lets her fuss over him, bullying him into showering and shaving. She already has a set of nice clothes for him, because she’s some kind of stitch witch, so it’s just a matter of packing up and going to Ishgard. There’s not _quite_ enough room at Haurchefant’s house to put them all up, but Tristan’s opened his home, and Thancred’s hopes of being lucky enough to stay with the latter are dashed long before they arrive. Tataru informs him cheerfully that he’ll be staying in his- in Haurchefant’s house. He tries to smother a grimace, but suspects that he is not entirely successful, because Y’shtola sighs, her tail flicking impatiently. Urianger looks at him with an unreadable expression, and Thancred makes the executive decision to ignore them, curling up in the back of the coach and pointedly falling asleep.

After they arrive, there’s no time to be nervous, because there’s a flurry of activity and a long list of things that still need to be done. Thancred gets roped into helping with decorations in the church, which suits him just fine. None of the Ishgardians recognize him, keep any conversation friendly but brief, and the work is almost enough to distract him from the horrible feelings roiling in his chest.

But time passes, as it’s wont to do, and before long he finds himself sitting on a pew in an Ishgardian church feeling deeply uncomfortable. Tataru puts a gentle hand on his leg, and he realizes he's been jiggling it. He shoots her an apologetic look, then glances past her at the twins. They’ve shot up like weeds since they returned home, though Alisaie is still taller, and they look very elegant and grown up in their fancy clothes. With a little jerk of alarm, Thancred realizes they _are_ grown up. Gone is the baby fat, their little matching braids. Alisaie has her hair cropped short, bangs brushing her forehead, and Alphinaud wears his long hair down, like Estinien. Their clothes don’t match anymore, Alisaie in a black and crimson suit and Alphinaud in royal blue robes. They look nothing like the young teenagers that showed up on the Scions’ doorstep all those years ago.

Something about that hurts, but not, he thinks, in a bad way.

The guests are an absolute hash of people from all over the world, most of them powerful. It isn’t every day one of the Warriors of Light gets married, he supposes, though how any of them found the time is beyond him. Aymeric is there, of course, with a grumpy looking Estinien at his side, and Yugiri, on Hien’s behalf. Incredibly, there’s a Xaela representative, who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. Thancred doubts strongly that he’s from whatever tribe Len is from, given her unwillingness to tell most people anything about her people. Lyse is one of Len’s bridesmaids, and looks ready to vibrate out of her skin with excitement, occasionally bumping Ceri as she cranes her head to look at the crowd. Vidofnir and a handful of other dragons are poking their snouts in through the windows, which were modified specifically to accommodate them, and most of the Ishgardian guests look deeply uncomfortable. The fucking Alliance leaders are here - hell, so is _Meteor_.

Thancred tries to focus on seeing which unfortunate girl Meteor’s brought as a date, give himself something to do during this torture that won’t pull his eyes up to Haurchefant. At that precise moment, the music swells, and the crowd turns as one being to look back at Len as she steps onto the aisle. Her white gown is long, tight fitting in the bodice and hips, but the rest is dreamy, floaty gauze, including the loose sleeves. The embroidery is gold, long vines tangling artistically and punctuated by shocking red blooms. Wavy blue locks are pulled back in a complex twist, pinned in place by an ornate scarlet comb. A thin, fluttery veil loops around the back of her head to attach to her lower horns with gold rings, and instead of trying to downplay the bone white light corruption scars on her scales, Len’s had them dusted with gold. She looks incredible. She looks two steps away from being a Lightwarden.

As the guests watch breathlessly, she takes Ariadne’s arm, contrasting starkly with the elezen’s dark, shimmering gown. Len beams at someone in the back row, probably Nui and Vivirn, and then the music changes. Ariadne leads her up the aisle at a slow, deliberate pace, as if giving her time to run, and when they pass the Scions, Thancred sees a little Fortemps shield embroidered at the dip in the back of her dress. Heart in his throat, Thancred follows Len’s steady gaze directly to Haurchefant.

The elezen is resplendent in a suit of deep Fortemps red, with white and gold accents, and he’s watching Len with all the intensity of his love for her. His smile seems to grow with every step she takes, until he’s all but glowing by the time Ariadne hands Len off to him. Thancred tears his eyes from them, takes a deep breath, and glares a hole in the pew in front of him as the ceremony begins.

At one point, he glances up and catches Urianger’s eye, the academic staring him down with a worried crease in his brow, and something he’d said back on the First echoes in Thancred’s head without warning. _“One day, thou will recall this conversation, and thee shall understand why I wouldst die for thee.”_ It strikes like lightning, at the worst possible time, and it’s all he can do not to leap to his feet and run. Breathing hard, he looks back at the pew.

The ceremony goes on for what feels like years until all at once Tataru is tapping his elbow, and he looks up in time to see Haurchefant kiss Len like she’s the air he needs to breathe. The crowd around him lets out a cheer that’s almost loud enough to chase the sound of his own cracking heart from Thancred’s ears.

  
  


***

  
  


He drifts through the party and finds himself standing near Rev, who’s talking animatedly with Alphinaud about… something. Thancred sips his wine, listening with half an ear, and tunes in only when Alphinaud spots someone and says, “I’d like to introduce myself. I never did get to meet him.”

“This should be _good_ ,” Rev mutters, and follows the young man into the crowd.

Thancred watches them go, hears Alphinaud’s Diplomat Voice over the noise, followed by a soft but unmistakable, “Nhaama…?” and the sound of Rev choking on air.

The word tickles his brain, but Thancred is pleasantly buzzed, so it slips away again before he can pin it down. Shrugging, he turns to see if he can find someone to fuck, maybe one of the stuck-up Ishgardian nobles. Instead, he runs right into a broad chest, and only years of reflexes keeps him from spilling his drink all over crimson silk.

“Thancred,” a familiar voice says, large hands gripping his shoulders to steady him.

“No,” he replies immediately, then hesitates, unsure what he’s protesting.

Haurchefant lets out a soft huff of laughter. “How drunk _are_ you?”

Thancred takes a moment to consider the question, then decides, “Not enough. What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping a friend, of course,” the knight-turned-adventurer says, and loops an arm around him. “I think we ought to get some food in you.”

“I’m not hungry,” he protests, but then Haurchefant is piling food on a plate and shoving it in his hands, and Thancred shoots him a glare before shoving the cake down his throat. It’s rich and fluffy, and he’s not normally one for sweets but he can’t help a groan of pleasure, eyes slipping closed. When he opens them, he finds Haurchefant gazing at him intently, and swallows hard. “Look, sunshine,” he begins. When his friend only raises an eyebrow, Thancred tries again. “I- uh- congratulations.”

Mouth curving into a smirk, Haurchefant says, “Thank you.”

It’s too much, suddenly. The cake, the look, everything, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this. Thancred sets the plate down with a thump. “I’m- I think I’m gonna go.”

Before Haurchefant can say a word, he flees. For once, he does not seek Urianger out.

  
  


***

  
  


A week later, Ceri takes him by the hand and says, “Come to the Sea of Clouds with me.”

“Ceri,” Thancred sighs, “I’m not really in the mood.”

She squeezes gently. “Humor me.”

  
  


They find themselves on a small island, reclining on a soft blanket, shoulders brushing, until Ceri says, “Come here.” She pulls him into a soft hug, and he sits there rigidly. “Relax.” Clawed fingers delicately stroke his hair, and eventually, he feels the tension ease away. They sit in comfortable silence for a spell before Ceri says, “Now. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Thancred huffs and pulls away. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Glancing at him, she says softly, “You lie to your friends quite a lot.” She pauses, then tells him, “My Echo… I can feel everything you’re feeling, Thancred. You can’t hide from me.”

He flinches, wraps his arms around himself, files the information away for later. “Well, then I’m sure you already know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I-” His breath catches. “I _can’t_.”

Ceri takes this in, then suggests, “I’ll tell you something if you tell me. Something I haven’t told anyone.”

Bile rises in Thancred’s throat, and he swallows. “I don’t- you-” She looks at him. “ _Fine_. Fuck.”

For a long time, he says nothing, staring out at the clouds as he tries to work up the courage to even think the words. Finally, his mind carefully blank, he forces them out. “I’m in love with Haurchefant.”

It feels like a colossal weight leaving his chest. It feels like tying a noose around his own neck.

“I know,” Ceri says. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because he doesn’t- he doesn’t need me. He has Len.”

“It’s possible to love more than one person.”

Thancred lets out a shaky, frustrated sigh, and runs his hands through his hair. Ceri kisses his cheek.

Then, “I’m in love with Emet-Selch.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that it takes Thancred a moment to fully comprehend it. “Fuck,” he breathes. And then he thinks about it, remembers what she’d had to do, and says, “ _Fuck_.”

“Indeed.” Ceri looks away, smooths her skirt. She seems so calm, but he thinks he can see her fingers tremble. “Rev knows. I believe Ariadne knows. You understand why I haven’t told anyone else. They had strong feelings about him towards the end.” She glances at him. “You had strong feelings from the start.”

Thancred nods. “Yeah, I did,” he says slowly, “but- if _you_ of all people love him, then - there had to be something good about him.”

For once, he seems to have surprised her; it flickers across her eyes and is gone in a moment. “There was,” she murmurs, and he tugs her carefully into his side. She snuggles against him, and they fall back into silence.

The sun is beginning to set when Ceri asks, voice heavy with her combined thoughts, “What else is bothering you?”

Thancred opens his mouth to tell her it’s nothing, but instead he says, “Urianger.”

“Ah. You finally see it.”

“Did everyone know but me?” he snaps, then rubs his face. “Of course they did. No wonder Y’shtola’s been so eager to bite my head off lately.”

“I imagine she has several reasons,” Ceri remarks. “But that may be chief among them, yes. I even tried to tell you myself.”

“What? You did?”

“Several times. I suppose it was so far out of what you consider reality that you simply didn’t hear it.”

He doesn’t like that. “I guess,” he says, reluctantly.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s- I don’t- I _slept_ with him. A _lot_.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know. And he never turned you away.” Thancred doesn’t know how to explain that that doesn’t make him feel any better, but she pats his arm like she understands. “I think you should talk to him.”

He sighs, but she’s not wrong. “What do I even say? I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Ceri hums. “Just talk. Ask him about his feelings, tell him yours. Be respectful and kind, because he’s your friend.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Perhaps it is simply not so difficult as you’ve convinced yourself it is.”

  
  


***

  
  


He talks to Urianger. It goes well up until his friend suggests he tell Haurchefant his feelings and implies that they may be returned.

Thancred doesn’t yell, much as he wants to, but he does excuse himself and flee into the night, and he doesn’t stop until he’s in Limsa Lominsa.

In no universe does Haurchefant love him, not in the same way. To prove it, he goes to visit them, and when he finally gets there, they aren’t even home.

  
  


***

  
  


Thancred is holed up in their kitchen, scarfing down a hastily made sandwich, when he hears the door open. Shortly after, he hears the sound of a sword being drawn, and he quickly swallows what’s left. “It’s just me!” he calls.

A moment of bemused silence. Finally, Len pokes her head into the kitchen, fire licking her fingers. “Thancred?” The fire flickers out, and then he has his arms full of tiny blue woman. She hugs him so hard he thinks she cracks a rib, and then she steps back, beaming at him. Instead of her usual tight-fitting dresses, she’s wearing a gambeson over hose and boots, and he raises an eyebrow. She frowns, then grins as she understands. “Haurchefant is teaching me the sword.”

“Yes, and she’s becoming quite adept, so tread carefully,” Haurchefant says, stepping into the room, eyes crinkling as he turns them on Thancred. “It’s good to see you.”

He shrugs, uncomfortable. “I thought I’d stop by,” he says. “Y’know. See how the marriage is going.” It strikes him now just how stupid an idea this is. “And since you’ve graduated to sword lessons, I’m assuming it’s great. So, I’m gonna. I’m gonna go.” He ducks around Len, but Haurchefant remains stubbornly in the doorway.

“My… Thancred,” Haurchefant says slowly, as if correcting himself, but the way it feels deliberate sends a violent shiver through Thancred’s entire body. He steps forward, and Thancred steps away, moving until his back thumps against a wall. “I think it’s high time we cease playing this game.”

“What,” Thancred says, and then Haurchefant is kissing him, very gently, as if trying not to scare him off. He gasps into it, knees threatening to buckle, and fists his hands in Haurchefant’s jacket. A low whine bubbles up in his throat as the elezen pulls away, and then Len is tugging his head down to press her mouth to his. His head swims as she lets him go, lip tingling where she’d scraped a sharp fang across his tender flesh, and he stares between them in profound confusion. “I don’t-”

“This is an invitation,” Len tells him frankly, “to be with us. Or just Haurche, if you want, though I’d like to at least be, y’know. Friends.”

Thancred can’t breathe. “I-” he says helplessly, and then they’re on either side of him, guiding him to a chair. He sinks heavily into it, then tries again. “What?”

Haurchefant kneels before him and puts a hand on his cheek, and Thancred stares at him, wide-eyed. “I ought to have made my feelings clear far sooner,” he says, that damnable smirk slipping onto his face, “but in all the excitement I’d forgotten what a silly little nit you are. Thancred, I care for you deeply, and I know you feel the same. I should like to explore these feelings with you.”

“But-” Thancred glances helplessly from one to the other. “Len-”

“My dear Thancred, it’s possible to love more than one person at once.”

The echo of Ceri’s words is almost enough to override the violent headrush that the endearment gives him, but not quite. Unthinking, Thancred reaches out and grips Haurchefant’s jacket lapels so hard his knuckles turn white, and then he slides off the chair to settle between the other man’s knees, staring up at him.

Remembering Len, he glances at her, and finds her watching with a soft grin. She makes a little “go on” motion with her hand, and Thancred, heart trying to rip itself out of his chest, turns back to Haurchefant, who’s watching him with a warm, soft expression belied by his hungry eyes. Thancred adjusts his grip on the lapels, then tugs him into a harsh kiss, aggressively biting his lower lip. Haurchefant lets out a pleased growl, then wraps his ridiculous long arms around him, tucking one under his ass. Then he stands, Thancred in his arms, and _fuck_ he might die from that alone. Coming up for a moment as Thancred figures out how to wrap his legs around him, Haurchefant says, “Len-”

“Way ahead of you,” she chirps, and the brightness of Haurchefant’s smile warms Thancred’s face. He chases it, and Haurchefant indulges him so thoroughly that they’re halfway up the stairs before he even knows they’re moving.

Thancred sucks in a breath, then bites hard, and finds himself pressed against a wall, one of Haurchefant’s hands in his hair. It tugs his head to the side, baring his neck, and the elezen’s hot mouth presses a fierce kiss to his sensitive skin. Teeth follow, scraping gently before biting down, and he jerks, letting out a needy whine.

Somewhere in the distance, Len giggles, and Thancred tugs impatiently on Haurchefant’s jacket. Haurchefant pulls him into another kiss, then peels him off the wall and carries him into the bedroom. He unceremoniously dumps Thancred on the bed, standing between his legs.

“You are an unmitigated ass,” Haurchefant says, voice low and rough. “A complete _menace_.”

Breathless, Thancred can’t resist smirking up at him. “What are you gonna do about it, sunshine?”

Haurchefant reaches out and wraps a hand around his throat, giving it a gentle squeeze before drawing him up so that he’s straining to support himself, then leans in to murmur, “I’m going to destroy you, my dear.”

  
  


***

  
  


Later, he’s curled up against Haurchefant’s chest, exhausted, with Len a little ball of warmth at his back. Both are gently running their hands over him, and occasionally one of them will press a little kiss to his head. His heart is only just beginning to calm, but nervousness has made a home in his stomach.

This doesn’t feel real.

It _can’t_ be real.

“You’re shaking,” Haurchefant murmurs, his palm a brand on Thancred’s hip.

There has to be some kind of _catch_.

“I’m okay,” he lies, and tugs the walls up over his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> People who went to the First, in order: Haurchefant & Thancred, Urianger & Y'Shtola, Alphinaud & Revaan, Ariadne, Len & Alisaie, Ceri.
> 
> Triad of Light/Darkness are Len, Ceri, and Ariadne.


End file.
